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Sitting in on Corbeau's meetings here or there is nothing out of the ordinary. You often found that the discussions flew over your head no matter how hard you tried to understand them. Pokémon? Sure, you understand their quirks and natures, understand their breeding habits, their migration patterns. Given that a client comes into the Rust Syndicate with a Pokémon-related problem, more often than not, Corbeau delegates you to help solve it. Whether it’s out of exhaustion from dealing with other clients or he sees your knowledge as the better fit for the situation, you appreciate the trust he puts in you to carry the Rust Syndicate's reputation. But other matters? Delegating work and harbouring after people who owe debts? Right over your head. The thought of even chasing after someone who owes money makes you uncomfortable.
Once, an older gentleman came into the Rust Syndicate looking for Corbeau’s help with a Pokémon problem. A Skwovet had been eating all the berries off the trees on one of the properties Corbeau owns outside of the Lumiose City borders. You had been hanging out on one of the couches when the man had entered the office. He gave a long tale about how fewer guests are visiting this property because it is known for its beautifully lush, berry-filled trees. At first, Corbeau insisted that the problem had an easy fix: just fire the worker who was stealing from the property.
The older gentleman then went on to explain it was a Pokémon, a particularly pesky and adamant Skwovet, who had been plucking the trees of their goods: “It’s this little brown Pokémon you see. It stuffs its cheeks full then runs off!”
“A Skwovet, you mean?” Corbeau asks.
You perked up at the mention of a Pokémon being the source of the gentleman’s troubles. Corbeau noticed you turn your attention away from your Rotom-phone to the conversation at hand. The two pondered the idea of whether it was a mating habit of Skwovet to gather an excessive amount of berries, as the one on Corbeau’s property had been doing. As their mistaken ideas of what the cause could be kept coming up, you couldn't help but interject.
“It's a migration habit for the species to collect berries, and store those berries away for when they return to the area once more!” you explain.
Corbeau had looked at you, surprised that you would speak so forwardly when a client was in a meeting of sorts with Corbeau. It had been the first time you had ever spoken up around one of Corbeau’s clients in such a manner. Nevertheless, you ignored Corbeau’s initial shock and continued on with an explanation about Skwovet migration habits.
You were concerned with them conjuring an idea to get rid of the Skovet that could potentially harm it, eventually suggesting you head back to the property yourself to see the problem yourself, sure that you could find a way to right the situation: “Why don’t I just go to the property and see the problem with my own eyes? I’m sure I can come up with some solution that makes all parties happy?”
“You’re not a member of the Rust Syndicate, though!” Corbeau exclaims. “You don't need to do that! I’ll go myself.”
At the words “you’re not a member of the Rust Syndicate,” you gave Corbeau a pointed look. You both know that you spend more time at the Rust Syndicate, in Corbeau's office as he works, than anywhere else. You basically only leave to retrieve food from Corbeau’s favourite restaurant, pick up hot drinks from the Nouveau Cafe Truck, explore hyperspace, or complete a job for Vinnie or Emma. Apart from that, you can be found relaxing in Corbeau’s office, playing on your Rotom-phone, or striking up a light conversation with the boss himself if he’s not particularly busy. Corbeau had even dedicated one of the closet spaces and bookshelves to you and the belongings you wanted to have in his office.
It started when you dragged a blanket with you from Hotel Z, citing that the extreme air conditioning in the building makes you cold. He warned you that he did not want to see that thing slung over the back of one of his exquisite black leather sofas, to which you jokingly replied that he simply should give up some closet space then, knowing that the closets in the office were filled with old files anyway. That very afternoon, he cleared one out, leaving space for your blanket, a tea collection, and other knick-knacks. Corbeau even went as far as to clear off a bookshelf for your own books to read while he was working in his office.
So yes, you have more personal belongings than any of the other Rust Syndicate members, likely more than Philippe himself. Even if you don't have the title, you consider yourself a member of the rust syndicate as any of the other grunts.
“Just let me go Corbeau,” you insist. “I know more about Pokémon habits than you anyway,” you say, smirking, reveling in the fact you actually have something you can hold over his head.
Corbeau pauses to give your point some thought. He crosses his arms, then speaks: “Fine. But Philippe will be escorting you.”
You had arrived at a beautiful chateau. The architecture of it was nothing like the buildings within the walls of Lumiose City. You wondered if an architect from Sinnoh had perhaps built it based on the beautifully ridged pillars at the corners of the building. Your suspicions are confirmed when Philippe catches you looking at the building in awe, and explains some of its history.
“This is believed to be one of the first buildings built here in Kalos, built by someone from Sinnoh, as I am sure you’ve already deduced.”
You nod, confirming his answer.
Philippe continues, “The boss acquired it not long ago, thinking it would make a good tourist attraction. He was right, business had been booming up until late.”
The older gentleman proceeds to lead the two of you around the side of the building, where you find an orchard that seems to stretch on for miles. When Corbeau and the gentleman had been discussing the trees the Skovet had been stealing from you assumed they meant a couple out front, not an entire orchard of different varieties. True to word, nearly all the trees were bare of their fruit.
You noticed something rustling in one of the front trees and walked over to investigate. Philippe reached out quickly to stop you, to which you gave him a death glare. Philippe may take orders from Corbeau, but he is more scared of the wrath you and your Pokémon could bring down on him than Corbeau’s temper. Phillipe takes a step back, returning both hands to his side. Corbeau may be overprotective of you in his orders to Philippe, but you came here to the property as a representation of the Rust Syndicate and aren't about to let anything stop you from doing your duties.
When you stop in front of the tree, a brown fuzzy head pokes out from between bushels of leaves, cheeks puffed out with berries. It is cute, and reminds you of when Corbeau tries to talk with his face stuffed full of takeout ramen when you eat dinner together at his office. You giggle lightly and hold out your arm for the Skwovet to jump onto. The Pokémon sees your offer and takes it, jumping onto your shoulder and nuzzling your cheek with its own.
Laughing more, you talk to the cheeky Pokémon. “What a cutie you are!” you exclaim. “I bet you just want some love, don’t ya?” You reach a hand to scratch underneath its chin, which it absolutely melts into.
You pause, an idea coming over you. You reach into your back pocket to reveal an empty pokeball and hold it up to the Skwovet.
“Wanna come on an adventure with me, little buddy?” you ask the Pokémon.
It chitters in delight, almost instantly bumping its forehead against the center of the pokeball. It disappears in a bright white light. The pokeball shakes once in your hand, then steadies, indicating the Skwovet has been caught.
You look back at Philippe and the older gentleman.
“That was easy,” you state with a smirk, impressed by your own abilities to bond so easily with Pokémon.
“How did you do that?” the older gentleman asks. “Anytime one of the gardeners went near that thing, it would bite their heads off!”
“I guess I just have a way with Pokémon,” you say with a shrug.
And that's how Corbeau came to trust you to deal with Pokémon matters within the Rust Syndicate. Although today was slightly different.
The two of you were having a slow morning in his penthouse. You woke up to hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, groaning in contentment. Corbeau begins sucking on your pulse point along the side of your neck, sure to leave a mark, while also earning a moan from you. He continues to suck and press those damned hot kisses along the expanse of your exposed neck. Once Corbeau was satisfied with the line of red marks he left, he continued onto your clavicle, pushing down the top of your sleep shirt ever so slightly to get better access. He begins sucking a line of red marks along there as well. All the while, his hands run up and down your sides, tracing the outline of your torso underneath your sleep shirt. He hums a deep vibration as he works along the area between your neck and clavicle. Your body lurches up involuntarily to his touch, craving more.
Eventually, Corbeau leans back to admire his handiwork, smirking at the blooms of red along your skin, which are sure to turn purple as the day wears on, and your blissed-out expression. Corbeau leans in with both arms framed on the side of your face, hands pushing into the mattress beneath you, and draws you in for a kiss on the lips. The kiss starts sweet, but soon turns into a clash of teeth and tongues. As his tongue prods at the opening of your mouth, you can’t help but oblige, granting him access. The two of you make out, exchanging more hot, open-mouthed kisses against one another’s lips. Your noses smush against one another in a manner that should be uncomfortable, but you can’t bring yourself to care in the moment from how turned on you are. Once satisfied that your lips were well and swollen, Corbeau returns his ministrations to your neck, pressing a flurry of kisses on top of the marks he left behind from his earlier actions. You run your hands through his hair on the back of his head, egging him on.
“One of Giovanni’s henchmen is coming to the office today,” Corbeau all but mumbles into the junction where your neck and shoulder meet. He doesn't stop the lustful attention he is giving to your skin, but something about the tone he said that statement makes you pause.
“Wait, what?” you say, beginning to snap out of your haze. You put both hands on his shoulders and push, encouraging him to look at you if only for a moment. “One of Giovanni’s henchmen, you said?”
“Some quarrel between his men and mine near one of my properties in Lumiose,” Corbeau replies. He pushes your hands that rest on his shoulders aside, and quickly dives back in to continue his prior actions. Corbeau sucks a particularly dark ring on your neck, to the point where you can feel his teeth graze your skin. You can't help but moan, despite the inhibitions you have in the moment. This is a conversation you two need to have, one that Corbeau seems to be trying his best to avoid by pleasuring you.
“Corbeau,” you say breathily. When he doesn't respond, instead continuing to push at the top of your sleep shirt in hopes of getting access to more unclaimed skin, you try again with a bit more serious tone. “Corbeau.”
Corbeau listens this time and lifts his head. His amber eyes meet yours. His pupils are blown wide, yet, there is some sort of fear which underlies the lust. You get a good look at Corbeau for the first time this morning. His hair is askew, and glasses are not present on his face, making him look younger than the front he tries to present as the leader of the Rust Syndicate. The most notable features on his face, however, are the dark bags under his eyes.
“Did you sleep last night?” you ask, concerned.
He shakes his head no.
“You were up worrying about this meeting, were you?”
Sensing that the fun times have ended, and he’s been caught, Corbeau flops unceremoniously onto the bed next to you.
“Well, what am I supposed to do? Treat this as if it’s any other meeting? This is Giovanni we’re talking about!”
You stare at the ceiling overhead, which harbours a beautiful mural of a Scolipede curled inwards on itself. Corbeau had a small, local artist complete the ceiling mural he had once explained, always one to help out the little people in the city. You trace the strokes of paint with your eyes, as you consider how to aid Cobeau in his situation. As the conflict doesn’t pertain to Pokémon, there’s not much you can offer in terms of expertise. You know that Corbeau always gets on edge when dealing with Giovanni’s men. It’s not often Giovanni’s men make a visit to the Rust Syndicate office for one reason or another, but Corbeau always feels the need to put on this extra tough front when they do.
Still lying on your back, you turn your head to Corbeau. “No, this isn’t going to be like any other meeting,” you state with a smile, an idea formulating in your mind. ”Because I’m going to be there next to you,” you finish, a seductive edge to your voice.
“Are you now?” Corbeau begins crawling over the top of your body again, the earlier provocation making a return.
“Mhmm,” You shift in his embrace, raising both arms and looping them around his neck.
“Well, my beautiful birdie, what was it you had in mind?” he says, breathily. He leans down to press kisses to the side of your neck he had not yet touched.
You whisper in his ear, “The entire meeting, I’m going to sit on your lap. That way they'll know who the boss truly is.”
Corbeau pauses his ministrations to look at you with a grin. “Oh, you little minx. Wanna show off those marks, huh? Wanna show people who you belong to?”
“Always,” you respond, looking at him seductively.
He claims your lips in a searing kiss, somehow more passionate than the one prior. You open your mouth to allow his tongue to explore your own. You feel Corbeau thumbing at the bottom hem of your sleep shirt, itching to pull it off you. When the two of you break for a breath of air, you take the opportunity to remind him of the time.
“Slow down,” you breathe into his space. “We don’t have time for that today.”
Cobeau looks at the alarm clock on the bedside table, taking in the time himself, noting that he’ll have to be at the office within the hour to meet with Giovanni’s henchman. Corbeau pouts.
“Hey, there. I didn’t say anything about not showering together. Though we’ll have to be quick.” You push Corbeau off of yourself, lean over to press a chaste kiss to his cheek, and sit upright in the bed. You reach for the bottom hem of your shirt yourself and tug it up over your head. You fling it in Corbeau’s direction, now sitting topless in the bed. Pushing back the purple silk sheets, you hop off the bed, sure to wiggle your ass a little as a temptation, and begin walking towards the en-suite bathroom. You strip the rest of your clothes as you walk, leaving a trail of pyjama shorts and underwear as you go. Now fully nude, you pause at the on-suite doorway, looking back at Corbeau still lounging in the bed.
“You coming, big boy?” you ask. Before he can respond or even move, you disappear around the corner out of his eyesight.
The two of you took perhaps a bit longer in the shower than you should’ve, with all the groping you were exchanging. In the end, both of you are clean and washed, ready to start the day.
Back in the bedroom, you slide over the door that has now been dedicated as your closet. You look over your options. You want to wear something that will complement Corbeau’s typical dress, but not something that directly copies his style. You spot a purple off the shoulder blouse you haven’t worn in a while. Pairing that with a black mini pencil skirt, semi-opaque tights, and some heels, you’re sure to look the part.
You look at yourself in the mirror; you almost feel like a doll being dressed up to be played with based on the way Corbeau slinks up behind you, also now dressed, wrapping his arms around your midsection and resting his chin on your shoulder.
“You look irresistible," he purrs in your ear.
In the mirror, the marks on your neck almost match the deep purple of your blouse. You can physically see Corbeau resist the urge to latch onto your neck again, knowing that the two of you are running on limited time now. Instead, Corbeau lightly brushes a thumb over the marks and then your jaw.
“Everyone is going to know you're mine,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear
“Yes, all yours,” you respond in a whisper, a pleasant chill working its way up your spine.
Corbeau takes your hand in his, guiding you out of the penhouse. Downstairs, a Rust Syndicate marked vehicle already waits for the two of you. Philippe stands by the back door, checking his watch. As he sees the two of you approach, he takes on an intimidating stance, one you know is all bark and no bite, but those outside the Rust Syndicate know no better.
“Just on time, boss,” he remarks to Corbeau. You catch a glimpse of Philippe taking in the way Corbeau grips your hand in his, but Philippe does not comment. He also does not comment or even raise an eyebrow at the marks that decorate your open neckline.
Corbeau only lets go of your hand to hoist himself into the backseat, which Philippe has now opened the back door to reveal. Philippe offers a hand to help you into the vehicle, one which you accept. Once settled inside, the door closes behind you with a click.
The ride over to the Rust Syndicate is uneventful, apart from Corbeau nervously running his hand up and down his thigh. You catch him in the act, placing a hand over his and intertwining your fingers together. You give Corbeau a reassuring smile. He returns it and squeezes your intertwined hands. He lifts your hand to his face and closes his eyes, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. He holds his lips there for a few beats before returning your hands, still entwined, to the leather seat.
“Thanks for being beside me,” he says genuinely.
“Always,” you respond, this time giving his hand a good squeeze. It's the best you can offer, seeing as you both have seatbelts on, a hug isn't viable at the moment.
Soon enough, the vehicle comes to a halt; Philippe and Corbeau both exit it. You watch through one-sided windows as Corbeau walks around the vehicle, coming to stand by the door you sit closest to. Corbeau opens it and offers you a hand similar to how Philippe had offered you his own hand not long ago. You once again accept the assistance, stepping out into the morning sun of Lumiose City.
Corbeau's hand works its way onto the small of your back, guiding you away from the vehicle and towards the Rust Syndicate building. Philippe walks a few steps ahead of you both, ever ready to jump in and defend his boss and you, if the situation arises.
You note how Corbeau is acting extra possessive today. The way he guides you into the building, a firm grip that drifted from the small of your back to the side of your waist now present. Corbeau normally isn’t one for public affection, but today he is laying it on thick. You suspect this possessiveness has something to do with Giovanni’s presence, albeit through one of his henchmen, in Corbeau’s office later today. You know Corbeau struggles with keeping hold of things he cares deeply for, stemming from his childhood and the fact that things were constantly taken away from him. Your heart hurts at the thought of a young Corbeau yearning for things he cannot have, and the little he did have was taken away.
Once inside the building, the members of the Rust Syndicate line up on either side of the central walkway leading to the elevator. Corbeau's grip on your waist somehow tightens further, that possessiveness striking a deeper mark. He waves cordially at the other members, all while guiding you towards the elevator. One of the newer members who had lined up catches your gaze. They have wide eyes, surely eyeing the blooms of broken blood vessels littering your neck and upper chest. You look away, slightly embarrassed, but also proud to display the love Corbeau shows you in such a bold, physical manner. The elevator dinging, indicating its arrival on the ground floor, breaks you from your thoughts. The two of you step on, you coming to appreciate the weight of Corbeau's hand around your waist.
As soon as the doors shut, Corbeau’s lips are on yours. You moan into his mouth. His tongue prods at your closed teeth, and you grant him access. The two of you alternate in quick succession between open-mouthed kisses and exploring each other with your tongues. When the elevator dings again, signalling it's now at the floor of Corbeau's office, Corbeau wraps his arms underneath your ass and lifts you off the ground, carrying you the relatively short distance between the elevator and his desk. He unceremoniously drops you on his desk, knocking over the jar of pens in the process. All the while, his lips don't leave yours. The two of you are completely wrapped up in the sensation of your lips moving against one another's. You moan into his mouth again, which encourages him to keep going, until you realize where you are and when it is. Soon, Corbeau’s guest will arrive, and the two of you need to look somewhat presentable.
The two of you break apart, breathing in one another's air. A line of saliva connects you for a brief moment, before breaking and landing on your chin. You wipe away what's left on yours with the back of your hand and thumb at Corbeau's chin too, wiping away the excess saliva. He gives you a quick pat to the thigh and walks around to the other side of his desk. He sits down in that oversized chair that he hasn't bothered to replace.
“Would you be comfortable sitting on my lap during the meeting?” he asks. “It’ll show my authority better than if you were sitting on a chair next to me,” he justifies.
“Well,” you start, dramatically tapping your finger against your chin in thought, “I'll only know once I try.”
Corbeau smiles knowingly, that you're only toying with him, and pats his lap in an invitation for you to join him.
You hop off the desk and make your way around to where Corbeau sits. In one moment, you stand next to him innocently, in the next, you straddle his lap, deliciously grinding your hips against his.
“Not. What I. Meant,” Corbeau grits out.
You hop off his lap, giggling, proud of the effect you have on him. Next, you sit almost side saddle on his lap, your legs crossed over the top of his own.
“Like this?” you whisper in his ear, having perfect access to do so at the angle you currently sit at. You feel the beginning of his erection prodding at the underside of your thigh through your skirt. It's barely there, but noticeable all the same.
Corbeau turns his head and captures your lips in a kiss once more, although this one is much more passionate and purposeful than the lust-driven ones from earlier in the elevator. He releases to your lips to gaze into your eyes, conveying emotion better than words could in the moment. His irises are uncertain, wavering with fear that would go unnoticed by everyone else except you and perhaps Philippe. To see fear brought down on Corbeau, a person who has built up their own empire, by a singular man, breaks your heart. You lean down to kiss Corbeau yourself this time, pushing as much love as you can into your lips' embrace.
When the kiss breaks, you wrap your arms around his neck and draw him in for a much-needed hug. His head comes to rest against your chest. He exhales a breath you're not sure he knew he was holding in. You can physically feel the tension being released from his body the longer he's in your embrace; his shoulders begin to slump, and his neck muscles loosen. When you're sure he’s had enough, not wanting to overwhelm him with love, you release Corbeau from your embrace. You smile softly, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.
“Promise me you won't be this soft when our guest is here?” Corbeau pleads with you.
“Oh, you have no idea what is in store for you, boss”, you say, giving Corbeau a light tap on the nose with a finger.
You and Corbeau converse about the newest hyperspace data while waiting for Giovanni’s henchman to arrive. When you had initially gone to sit elsewhere until the man came, Corbeau stopped you with a firm hand on your thigh, and that was that. You were to stay seated on Corbeau's lap until the meeting had concluded.
Giovanni's henchman is prompt, arriving right on scheduled time, meaning it's time for your show to begin. You pepper kisses on the side of Corbeau’s jaw, caressing the other side of his face with your hand. Corbeau places his hand on your thigh and grips, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of who you belong to.
Philippe steps off the elevator with the man, introducing him to Corbeau.
“Giovanni’s assistant is here to see you, boss.”
The man enters the office with a solemn expression and his arms crossed behind his back. He is almost Philippe's height, although with less-toned muscle. He proceeds to walk forward until stopping just a couple of meters in front of Corbeau's desk. You continue your ministrations, moving from his jaw to the side of his neck, heaving breathily into his space. You're sure that the ghost of your breath tickles Corbeau's neck.
Head bowed, the man introduces himself, “You can call me Toni.” The man raises his gaze to spot the predicament Corbeau is in. “Am I interrupting something?” Toni asks.
You catch Toni staring at you in particular in your peripheral vision, the marks Corbeau graced across your neck and chest this morning on full display.
“No, not at all," Corbeau replies smoothly. Corbeau puts on a composed front for his guest, but you can tell from the way his muscles tighten he is more than reactive to what you're laying down. At that realization, you let your teeth graze his neck with your next series of kisses. Corbeau shivers in your hold. “Please, have a seat,” Corbeau gestures to the chair he had placed in front of his desk, knowing that the conversation with Giovanni's henchman might be a lengthy one.
True to belief, the conversation does last a decent amount of time in comparison to other clients that come to visit Corbeau’s office. Usually, Corbeau is the one who holds all the power and can quickly dismiss whatever the other side is trying to argue. However, with this man, that is not the case. Although Corbeau may hold an equal or lesser power in the current situation, you hope that having you on his lap in such a compromising position empowers him to some degree.
Corbeau and Toni argue back and forth about the quarrel that occurred between members of the Rust Syndicate and Giovanni's men. Many of the details of the occurrence fly over your head. You really tried to hold attention to what was being discussed when the conversation started, but slowly lost yourself to the motions of pleasuring Corbeau. You found that your mind entered some sort of lust-filled haze. A deeper fire, the one Corbeau ignited this morning teasing the top of your pyjama shirt, is further stoked the longer you stay in this haze.
You're brought to again by a firm grasp shifting from your thigh to around your waist. The cloud clears enough to recognize that Toni no longer sits in the chair in front of Corbeau’s desk, nor is he in the office at all. It's just the two of you now, curled up together as sweet as Ekans.
“He’s gone,” Corbeau says, voice barely above a whisper.
“Hmm?” you respond, thoughts still clouded by the haze.
“You can stop now.” Corbeau reaches a hand up to caress your cheek. “You did wonderfully, birdie,” he praises.
You hum, continuing your attention to his neck.
Corbeau grows concerned by your lack of a clear response to his words. The next time you lean back for a breath, he catches you with a firm hand on your chest.
“Hey,” he starts softly.” “You with me?”
“You’re amazing,” you whisper, letting your teeth graze his ear. You gently remove his hand from your chest and intertwine your fingers together. With the other, you place your thumb delicately on his chin and lean in for a proper kiss. When you part, Corbeau talks to you again.
“No one’s here. You don’t have to put on a show anymore.”
You look back at him with hooded eyes.
“But what if I want to?” you ask. You claim his lips with yours again, him starting to get the idea of where this dance is headed. While your lips are still connected, you loosen his tie and finger at the top buttons of his dress shirt. With new skin exposed, you turn your attention to it and latch on with a sharp kiss.
The moment proceeds; more skin may have been exposed to his office than you'd like to admit, but it doesn't matter, you suppose, when Corbeau was the only one around to see it. In your exchange, Corbeau has half the mind to hit a button by the elevator, knocking it out of service to his office. Your dance ends with both of you being well spent, skin sticky, yet not wanting to let go of each other.
“If that's my reward for keeping you in my lap during a meeting, I'll have to do it more often,” Corbeau grins, breathing heavily.
“Maybe you will,” you grin back, cheekily.
Corbeau may have been scared today, but you'll always be there to remind him who truly holds power in Lumiose.